


Mandrake

by sherwoodfox



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: (NOT IN A GOOD WAY), Abduction, Alternative Scene, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, Manipulation, Mild Sexual Content, Non-Consensual Touching, Psychological Torture, Scene Rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:14:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22327660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherwoodfox/pseuds/sherwoodfox
Summary: A telling of Marcoh’s imprisonment in the Underground, and his treatment at the hands of Envy.“Say it.”“I belong to you.”
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	Mandrake

The air in the cell was cold and stale- smelling faintly of unsavoury things, like old fear and body fluids. Above him, the electric light buzzed, dull and constant. Deep below his feet (which must be very far into the earth, considering he was already beneath it) something could be felt rumbling, a low but steady shift, like the heartbeat of a sleeping giant. Perhaps there _was_ one such thing here- why not? He had already seen legends come to life.

_Why are they keeping me alive?_

Marcoh groaned and covered his eyes. The movement only distracted him for an instant, and then it all came back. He couldn’t keep his thoughts from the places he didn’t want them to go. After all, what else was there to think of? Naught but dirty walls and the light and the chill that crept in from the grates overhead. Horrors yet untold. The whispers of whatever unwholesome creations crawled about in the surrounding tunnels- and the disjointed whimpering of his own guard beasts that paced back and forth before the door to his cell, scratching at their own mottled hindquarters and panting slavishly. Maybe they had been dogs once. They weren’t quite dogs anymore.

To think- it had all gone wrong, and so easily, too. The day had started so normally. Would this not have happened, had he not gone past the train station that day? What if he hadn’t spoken to that boy with the golden eyes? What if he had been cleverer- figured out some ingenious escape when held between the claws of that monstrous woman (woman-thing, because he knew perfectly well that she hadn’t been a real woman). Perhaps this wouldn’t have come to pass- but it was too late for regrets now.

It had been too late all those years ago, when he had first discovered the true nature of his youth’s passion, the Philosopher’s Stone- it had been too late when he had agreed to work in that old laboratory. Too late when he had realized what those things really were, and what they were doing to people...

He tried not to think of this. For years he had told himself that there was no use dwelling in memory. But there was only one other chain of thought that seemed to consume Marcoh in his cell- only one other thing worth thinking of, and that was worse than the past, for it was the future.

_Why are they keeping me ali-_

After all, he didn’t even know why he was here. Did they still need him for something? For what? He had perfected that cursed science for them, that monstrous project that had been developing since antiquity, he had done everything they asked. He had destroyed himself and so many others, stained his hands and retinas red under the earth and with every transmutation whittled away another sliver of his soul. God, there had been so much suffering. What more could they possibly want?

But now they asked nothing of him. Perhaps he was on hold, like a library book, a brain that could be taken out easily and rifled through when the time arose. But it seemed almost a waste of resources. They weren’t even having him work. He didn’t know how long he had been down here, since the woman had locked the cell door, for there was no indication of night or day. But it felt like a very long time. He had already fallen asleep once, to feverish and uncomfortable dreams, and it seemed like hours had passed since he had woken- in an abstract way, he knew he was very hungry, but the pain of it didn’t consume him, all sensations were dull. But still nothing had come for him.

Thinking this, a new sound reached Marcoh’s ears, faint beneath the hellish noises of the chimerae- but still, unmistakably, footsteps.

Even though his ignorance had been unbearable, this was suddenly more so. A cold sweat broke out over his body. He didn’t want to do this. He wasn’t strong enough- well, he supposed be was going to have to be.

The creature that appeared at the end of the corridor he recognized. He had seen this one once or twice under Ishval- though it hadn’t been his ‘supervisor’. It was carrying a tray with a decadent meal balanced on one hand. Why this particular monster? They had others, didn’t they, slaves of lower status that could bring meals to the prisoner. God, who knew? The sounds made the shuffling of the once-dogs pick up again in fervour. For a moment Marcoh struggled to remember its name- and then realized he didn’t need to, for that much was evident in the colour of its hair.

Envy didn’t say anything as it unlocked the door to the cell. The chimeras whimpered and cringed away as it entered, recognizing their master and fearing it. Marcoh understood. Even though they were alchemical creations, they were closer to a natural creature than this thing was- of course they would fear it. Of course they would be able to tell that something was wrong, that what they were looking at was utterly unnatural, animated clay or shadow or plant fibres.

(This one, he could guess, was plant fibres. It looked very much like a mandrake.)

“Good evening, Doctor Marcoh,” Envy chirped, fixing him in place under a pair of flat, eerie eyes. The smile it wore was serpentine. “How’s your appetite today?”

Marcoh didn’t understand. The tray appeared well stocked, with an expensive cut of steak and blanched greens, salt and pepper shakers, milk and probably tea to drink in a clean white mug. Hardly a prisoner’s fare. The food didn’t match his living quarters. A morbid thought entered his mind then- maybe they were fattening him up, like a witch in a children’s tale, plumping up the meat in preparation to devour him. There was one such monster, he knew, that devoured. But he didn’t really think that. Did he? 

“What, don’t want to talk?” Envy continued, when Marcoh said nothing. Its tone of voice was still bright. “You’re stubborn. Most people would be begging for a bit of human interaction by now. Don’t you know how long you’ve been down here?”

Marcoh said nothing, not wanting to give it the satisfaction. And besides, this wasn’t human interaction. It didn’t feel like he was talking to a person, not really.

“Well, I won’t say,” Envy purred as it put down the tray of food on the small table in the cell, and pulled out the chair tucked beneath it to sit upon, straddled, arms resting on the back. It had said more to him in these last few moments than he ever remembered of it from the laboratory, from Ishval. But maybe he just hadn’t noticed. He knew this one could change shape. 

“We did manage to replace you,” Envy said, slowly turning its head to one side as it spoke. “Eventually.”

Marcoh was silent still, but he didn’t look away. The weakness he felt inside hadn’t dissipated, but he didn’t want to show it- the desire to appear strong, ultimately, outweighed the slightly sick feeling that bubbled up in his stomach, looking at those hollow, evil eyes. “The new guy is just a transfer from another department, though,” Envy continued. “He’s not quite as...clever.”

With one hand it reached out and- in a gesture that seemed as horrid and shocking as a gunshot- touched Marcoh’s cheek. He almost flinched, but he held it in. The touch was lingering, and very cold, much colder than human skin should have been. Envy’s lips slowly peeled back into another grin, exposing white teeth- almost human teeth, save the canines, Marcoh was close enough now to see. Those teeth were fangs.

Delicately that cold touch caressed his skin, the pads of its fingers smooth and dry, eventually reaching around to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. Marcoh realized suddenly why Envy was smiling- _he_ was shaking. He had thought he wouldn’t, thought he would hold it back, and yet look at him now.

“What’s the matter?” it cooed. “You still don’t wanna talk to me?”

Marcoh turned his head away from the horrifying touch, and Envy made a faint _tsk_ sound under its breath.

“What a pity,” it said, voice hardly more than a sigh, but even then the tone of it filled the entire room. The chimera-dogs in the corner, Marcoh saw, were straining at the ends of their leashes, trying to sit as far as possible from the thing on the chair. He didn’t blame them. Something about the sight, though, suddenly made him mad- inexplicable anger bloomed bright and hot under the surface of his skin, overshadowing all the other feelings, even his fear, even his pride.

“I’m not going to do what you want,” he snapped suddenly, surprising himself. His voice sounded strange in the air here, but he kept pushing, the dam broken to the words his head had been holding in. “I’m not. You can’t make me- not this time.”

Envy made a tiny, pleased noise- almost a laugh. Marcoh, of course, recognized his mistake immediately- when he turned to see its face, it clearly wasn’t bothered by his answer, a coy little smirk still turning up the ends of its pale lips. If anything, though, this only made him angrier. He could feel his hands balled up on his sweatpants, every muscle in his body tense and overwarm, sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. A powerless rage maybe, fueled by its own powerlessness. But no, he wasn’t powerless, was he? He had a way of beating this thing, and all that it represented. Something he hadn’t been able to do the first time.

After all, he was still _alive,_ wasn’t he? That meant he was needed for something. And even if it was the only thing he could do, he could deny them that need.

“You can torture me,” he said, suddenly feeling triumphant, in a way that only desperation could invoke. “You can do anything to me. Whatever it is, I won’t do it. You can even kill me- in fact, you might as well kill me now! I’ll never give you what you want. Do you understand?”

Envy’s smug little smile slowly slipped from its face as he said these things, and in the hand that had touched him it picked lazily at a piece of its own hair, winding a strand between its fingers. When he was finished, he was out of breath, as though he had run some incredible distance. 

For a moment, there was quiet before the monster spoke again, a quiet where he felt the danger of his own words sit in the air. He had just invited his own death, after all. But the warmth of this tiny victory hadn’t yet subsided.

“You don’t need to worry, Doctor,” said Envy slowly, and then it smiled again, a very bright an almost youthful smile. “No one’s going to hurt you, or kill you. We’d rather keep you healthy. You’ll be well cared for, you’ll see.”

When Marcoh didn’t reply to this it stood again, pushing the chair back, and began taking the plates off the tray. The smell of good food had filled the room during the ‘conversation’ and despite his will Marcoh could feel himself salivate, his insides waking up to the call. But he made no move to take his place in the chair. He wanted nothing to do with that kind of ‘charity’.

“I’ve been thinking about taking a little vacation,” Envy suddenly said, and the look it gave him over one shoulder was sly- he didn’t like that look at all. “I deserve a bit of time off, don’t you think? I’m always working so hard.”

Marcoh made no reply to this, and in the quiet Envy grinned. 

“Do you have any suggestions, Doctor? Any nice places you know of, for tourists?”

Something deep inside Marcoh’s belly soured, a bit of darkness creeping in, though the source of it he couldn’t name. Almost like he knew what it was going to say before it said it.

Envy picked up something else from the tray- a piece of photo paper, no doubt it had been tucked underneath the steak plate. For a moment it looked at the thing, largely expressionless, and then it turned the picture around for Marcoh to see.

“What about here? I’ve heard many good things about _this.”_

The atmosphere in the room had completely changed- and every feeling inside of Marcoh had shifted downwards into abject horror. Of course, he knew the vista presented in the photo. Of course he did. Of course he had seen those houses many times before. God- he could see people walking up one of the streets, a recognizable head of blonde hair that belonged to the young mother he had helped through childbirth, the familiar posture of the old woman who came to see him for joint pains. Of course it was this.

“What a lovely little town,” Envy said sweetly. “Full of fun toys to play with. And you know how I like to _play.”_

The ensuing quiet left by this statement made Marcoh feel sick. He couldn’t look away from the photo. Some part of him searched desperately through the lines, trying to find something that would reveal the image to be an illusion- to be the wrong place, the wrong people, a lie or optical trick. But he couldn’t find anything. Every coming second only confirmed it, as his eyes picked out little details like the spring flowers in the market stand, the recently repaired window at the pharmacy- proof that not only was this his town, but that the picture had been taken recently. 

_Taken after he had been abducted._

He was sweating ice now, and it soaked the skin of his back.

“So, what did you say, Doctor?” said the monster, and it dropped the picture on the bed beside him- unintentionally, Marcoh recoiled, as though the object would somehow burn him. The shivering had started up again. God, why was he so _weak?_

“Do you want to repeat yourself?”

Envy leaned over him now, so close their noses were practically touching. At this distance, he could see that the pupils in its eyes were slitted- vulpine, predatory, not at all human. There was something horrible in those eyes, something that made the hairs all over Marcoh’s body rise, something that looked like it _burned-_ no, that wasn’t quite right, Marcoh realized. There wasn’t something in there, rather, something was _missing._ What burned was the empty space where it should have been, that little light or depth that made human eyes different from those affixed to mannequins, or taxidermied animals. There was a complete _lack_ in those crystal violet eyes, and the revulsion that this understanding brought to Marcoh was unlike anything he had ever felt before. He understood very well why the chimeras strained against their leashes. They had simply picked up on it before him, their instincts sharper. This thing before him was an abomination, surely. Completely unnatural. Evil in the way that humans never really could be- because it had been designed that way, through perverted and ancient alchemy.

But he had known that already, hadn’t he? Homunculus. Human sacrifice. The colour of the human soul was red.

“Come on,” Envy said suddenly (or at least what felt like suddenly) and the room was brought back in full, Marcoh wrenched from the dark place behind the creature’s eyes. “What did you say? You won’t do anything we want, right? You’ll never obey us again, _right?”_

The smile on its face was crazy. Its breath on his skin- for he could feel every word it spoke, still pressed so close- was cold, and smelled faintly of blood. Marcoh said nothing. The fighting spirit had completely left him. The sight of that picture had broken any resolve he had built up against this place. He could see the faces of all those people, drifting somewhere behind his eyes...he knew they would show him, this thing would make sure he knew, if any of them were hurt. There would be more photos. At this moment, he doubted he could have spoken if he wanted to.

“That’s what I thought,” Envy purred, self-satisfied and wicked, its voice low and animal in its chest. It closed the distance between them, and in one careful, deliberate movement it licked a cold strip over Marcoh’s jaw and up his cheek, tongue flat and sickeningly wet. Despite the chill of its flesh- like a corpse, without body heat- when it finally drew away the place it had touched felt almost painfully hot. 

“You belong to me,” it said, swallowing like it savoured the taste of his skin. Did this one eat people too? Maybe it only drank their blood. Marcoh didn’t know. He didn’t know anything. His thoughts didn’t make any sense.

“Say it.”

Marcoh still didn’t say anything, stupidly not understanding, until Envy’s smile curled ever so slightly into a snarl, and it struck him across the head. The blow put lightning in his eyes for an instant, but it hadn’t seemed intentionally forceful. He was still being played with.

“Say you belong to me,” Envy hissed, voice somewhere between sweet and sinister, and Marcoh did not need to be told again.

“I belong to you,” he said, and he made the mistake of looking back up at it, seeing how Envy’s expression took on a look of such pleasure, while its eyes didn’t change at all. Empty eyes. He knew what it was missing, of course. Homunculi didn’t have souls.

“I belong to you,” he said once more for good measure, and Envy laughed, which was a terrible sound but at least it was less terrible than its touch had been.

“That was easy,” it said, and finally it backed away, looked at something other than him. “You’re a really easy guy, Marcoh. Even for a human. I’m sure we’ll have lots of fun.”

It adjusted the chair in the cell, and then the plate of food, and at last started to leave, taking only the empty tray with it. The chimeras made horrible noises in the backs of their throats as it approached the door- like they were trying to whine, but couldn’t, due to some flaw in their makeup that made them less than dogs. Marcoh, dazed, easily expected Envy to kick one of them, but it didn’t seem to notice them at all.

“So eat up, Doctor,” it called as it closed the cell door again. “Keep yourself healthy. You’re a very important person, after all. Ha!”

As soon as he could no longer hear its footsteps on the stone floor, Marcoh’s paralysis was broken, and with one sleeve he found himself scrubbing furiously at his cheek. He was trembling all over, much more violently than he had been before, and he could feel bile at the back of his throat. He felt filthy. It had barely touched him, and he felt corrupted all over, like its saliva had sunk into his skin and entered his bloodstream and was racing about his body, covering even his heart in poison. He wasn’t hungry at all, now. Rather than eat, he would much prefer to be violently ill. What kind of attention would that bring about, if he was?

Just then, it was terribly difficult not to despair.


End file.
